


Out of Time

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christopher Pike Lives, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 20,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: A man turned up, older than he was with eyebrows that leapt about as he told a crazy, impossible story......everything was wrong— this place, thistime, yet the longer he was there the more Leonard couldn’t help but feel a sense ofhome......Jim didn’t question his desire to help; it was only later that the pieces of the puzzle started to slot inexorably into place...Three perspectives— because no one said time travel was straightforward.





	1. Kirk - Now

**Author's Note:**

> Because of the POV shifts chapters can be short— I’ll probably post multiple chapters at once so if you’re reading the WIP you may need to keep track of where you are. I’ll keep a list of chapters by update, below, to make that easier to track until it’s completed. 
> 
> This was an interesting one to try to figure out— I’d never dug around in the timeline before, but so far as I can tell Pike is a year or two _older_ than George Kirk, and the Kelvin was destroyed when Pike was 31 (so that dissertation was started a little late…)
> 
> And I’ll probably take this image link down later, [but for you WIP readers…](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTPajPI3Afta_brjQJPgkAzR77aibUPcTtkWlFRB03y7ZJltcVofw) Bonus points if you can find the TOS and Discovery quotes buried in here.
> 
> Update #1: Chapters 1 - 5  
Update #2: Chapters 6 & 7  
Update #3: Chapters 8 - 11  
Update #4: Chapters 12 - 17  
Update #5: Chapters 18 - 22  
Update #6: Chapters 23 - 25  
Update #7: Chapters 26 - 27  
Update #8: Chapters 28 - 29  
Update #9: Chapters 30 - 32
> 
> ******************************

“What do you mean you’ve lost him?”

Seven words, delivered so mildly Jim couldn’t believe it was his own voice.

It was, though, cutting through the instrumentation noise and hushed activity on the bridge. He’d never seen his crewmen look scared of him before; not like that. Eyes were skittering sideways and no one seemed interested in meeting his gaze. Ensign Xian’re swallowed, tapping hurriedly on his console to little effect.

There was suddenly a flurry of movement— Chekov was calling for Scotty and Spock’s eyebrows were drawing together and Uhura’s hand settled on his shoulder without Jim realizing she’d left her station.

That red marker on the main viewscreen didn’t change: _signal lost_.

Jim felt like the gravity had been turned up too high, simultaneously leaving him lightheaded and pressed into his seat, unable to move if he’d wanted to.

Spock’s voice, sonorous in his ears, “We’re doing everything we can, captain.”

Jim gripped the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white— it wasn’t enough.


	2. McCoy - Then

“Dammit, Jim.” Leonard ducked behind a pallet of construction supplies, glowering at the hole in the ground that was supposed to be Archer Hall. Muttering, he frantically tried to catch his breath, “If you ever give me a bad time for complaining about transporters again I will be _hypoing_ you in the _ass_ every day for the rest of your natural life.”

“Sir?” Leonard spun around to find a campus security guard looking at him quizzically. “Are you lost?”

“I’m fine.” Painfully aware his smile was likely sickly around the edges, he hurried to dissemble, “Just fine. Have to give a guest lecture in an hour, and I’m not much of a public speaker.”

The guard’s expression turned sympathetic, but he also started to reach for his padd.

Swallowing down panic, because he’d be going straight to a jail cell if they ran his biometrics and it had a partial match with an infant in Georgia, he started to walk away with more purpose than he felt, “I’ll just head over now and see if I can grab a coffee.” He waved a hand behind himself to try and forestall pursuit, unable to entirely quell a tremor in his wrist. “As you were.”

He made it as far as the medical school complex, which mercifully hadn’t changed in the thirty-odd years Leonard thought he’d lost. Sinking onto a bench, he let his head drop into his hands as he contemplated the situation: no credits, a comm that may as well be broken, a medkit with tech he had to keep secret, and a name that may or may not already be taken. The shadows were lengthening— it had been late afternoon when he’d tried to beam down to Earth, and now the day was rapidly drawing into evening. He took a shaky breath, swallowing down the urge to vomit. Where could he go? Where would he _sleep_?

“Are you okay, sir?”

Head swimming, Leonard looked up to find himself confronted by a mop of sandy-blond hair, blue eyes, and a warm but concerned smile. Something skittered to a halt in Leonard’s brain with what sounded like _Oh. My. God_. Drawn out, just like that. He swallowed, mouth dry as he choked out, “Pike?”

The young lieutenant’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, have we met?”

Leonard didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.


	3. Pike - Then

If he’d been on the way to class, he wouldn’t have stopped, but as it was near the end of the day Christopher Pike spared a glance for the figure slumped in front of the biomedical complex, feet slowing of their own accord. There was a small case on the bench next to the man, and while he wasn’t in uniform there was an insignia on his bright blue shirt. Starfleet then, or at least affiliated somehow.

Up close, the man was ashen— so pale Chris thought it was a wonder he was still sitting upright. After, inexplicably, Chris’ last name, the next words out of the stranger’s mouth were, “I might throw up on you.”

Chris took a quick step backwards, but nothing was immediately forthcoming. Instead, the man blinked up at him until Chris felt obliged to ask again, “Are you okay?”

The dark-haired man licked his lips, then in a southern accent drawled, “Okay covers a Hell of a lot of ground.”

“Well,” Chris hadn’t graduated top of his class in command track for being retiring. Taking a step closer, he pressed, “Are you?”

The man huffed out a laugh that was bordering on hysterical, then replied, “Kid, I don’t even know how to begin answering that.”

_Kid_. Chris hadn’t been called that by anyone in years; it should have grated, but he ignored it in favor of asking, “Is there someone I can call?” That seemed to be the wrong question, as the man visibly winced. Okay, scratch that. It was five o’clock on a Friday in the summertime and while campus wasn’t exactly bustling they were bound to draw attention sooner rather than later. Kissing his evening plans of beers with the other Advanced Tactical TAs goodbye, Chris offered, “Do you want to go somewhere inside?”

The man vacillated for a moment, as if unsure whether he should, but eventually gave a stiff nod and awkwardly trailed Chris away from the medical complex and over to the graduate student lounge in the physics building. It was, fortunately, deserted; Chris made coffee for something to do with his hands, returning to place a mug and the milk and sugar in front of the man and looking at him properly as he accepted the drink.

_Talk, dark and handsome_ bypassed the milk and sugar, sipping at the black coffee like it held salvation.

Chris waited, patiently, keeping one hand on his comm just in case things got any weirder than they already were. It didn’t help that the first words out of the man’s mouth after draining his coffee were, “What’s the stardate?”


	4. McCoy - Then

With seven numbers this young Christopher Pike made the Earth wobble on its axis: “2227.221.”

Over thirty years. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He was a baby, back home in Georgia. Jim wasn’t even born yet. 

There were rules for this— drafted after the Narada: minimize impact, don’t profiteer, don’t try to change history. Even the Vulcans had agreed, despite their tremendous losses. The last thing the universe needed was more people trying to change the universe in their favor.

“Hey—” Pike tentatively touched his wrist and Leonard sucked in a deep breath.

“I’m fine.” Snatching his hand back so the younger man wouldn’t feel it shaking, he repeated for the umpteenth time that afternoon, “I’m fine. Just— had a spell with the transporter earlier. Everything’s where it’s supposed to be, but still feeling a little rattled.” He managed a smile as he picked up his mug again. “Thanks for the coffee. It’s just what I needed.”

Pike looked dubious. “You transported down? From a ship?”

He’d been trying to transport _up_, truth be told. The Enterprise crew had been on a week-long furlough on Earth while some reprovisioning and upgrades took place prior to the five year mission— their shakedown cruise had been declared a success. Everyone else had shuttled aboard earlier, but Leonard had got caught up supervising an experimental surgery at SFM and taken a last-minute beam instead, just before the Enterprise was scheduled to depart. “I’m a doctor. There was a medical emergency.” It was a spin on the truth, but he didn’t doubt Pike had an idea of which ‘fleet vessels were supposed to be in orbit.

Seemingly mollified, the younger man took a sip of his own coffee; nodded.

Frantically considering what he needed before he should get as far away as possible from Christopher Pike and lie low until Jim and Scotty could get him back, Leonard asked, “Can you sign me into the gym as a guest so I can grab a shower before I head back to the hospital? It has better facilities than the staff lounges”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.” Leonard mustered a smile that was meant to be reassuring. “Doctor, remember?”


	5. Pike - Now

The bedroom light had been off for an hour, but Christopher Pike wasn’t quite asleep when his personal padd beeped to indicate a pre-set alert had been triggered. Rolling over with a groan, he thrust out a hand and collected the device, calling the lights on low as he keyed it open with his thumbprint.

What popped up on his screen wasn’t any of the dozen things he might have expected.

_File: Leonard McCoy, Lt. Cmdr. [personnel file] Status update: MIA KW: transport _

Muttering to himself, he rolled out of bed and grabbed his cane, sparing a moment to regard himself in the mirror. 

He was old. 

So much older than twenty-five.

Straightening his back, Chris ordered, “Suit up.”

**********

The privileges of being an admiral meant it was easy to get a ride up to spacedock on short notice; the sight of the Enterprise hanging against a background of stars didn’t fail to set his heart beating a little bit faster, never mind that tug of emotion that she wasn’t his. 

He quashed it quickly.

It wasn’t the first time, after all. 

Kirk’s promotion ceremony, when Chris had smiled despite being propped up in a wheelchair, prognosis uncertain. 

The afternoon of Enterprise’s re-launch, with all the pomp and ceremony they’d missed the first time.

The three-and-a-half hours where he’d been her commanding officer again, Jim as his XO, ending with a pulse-gun blast to his chest and waking up weeks later to grey-faced medical personnel. They’d left it to Phil to break the news to him.

The morning of Enterprise’s re-re-launch, after Khan, when Jim took her out on a shakedown cruise as a precursor to the five-year mission.

Left behind. Left to physiotherapy and reduced lung function and a heart murmur they weren’t sure could be fully corrected. Left to a desk. Permanently.

The launch bay doors opened and a surprised-looking ensign told him the captain could be found in the senior conference room. Chris gripped his cane with white knuckles.


	6. Kirk - Now

Scotty was explaining something complicated, Jim couldn’t tell whether it was supposed to be good news or not, when the door to the conference room opened unexpectedly. An admonishment that it was supposed to be sealed for senior officers only died on his lips.

_Pike_. Leaning more heavily on his cane since Khan’s attack on HQ and definitely not cleared for starship duty. Bones had explained something complicated about stasis-induced atrophy, regenerated lung tissue and cardiomyopathy— despite the younger man actually dying, Pike had been in the grim reaper’s embrace for even longer than Jim himself.

“Sir?” Jim couldn’t keep the confusion from his tone, never mind that fourteen hours of fear and frustration had left him feeling emotionally wrung-out.

The older man gave the bridge crew an encouraging smile and Jim felt something loosen in his shoulders. Stepping up to the table, the admiral offered, “Got the news through ‘fleet channels— just thought I’d see if you needed me to throw my weight around.” Scotty took it in stride, as he always did, calling up a display with his latest theory and letting Jim melt into the background for a moment.

Letting their voices wash over him, Jim closed his eyes and ran through the sequence of events one more time: Bones requesting beam-up from SFM, Enterprise confirming, Ensign Wiles initiating the beam-up, no sign of anything wrong until the panicked request for a power-diversion to the transporter bay, the signal abruptly terminating, nothing in the pattern buffer…

“Jim—” He jerked in surprise; Pike was looking at him with a sympathetic expression. “Walk with me.” Jim opened his mouth to protest, but realized the room had half emptied without him noticing. It was almost 0300 and he’d been up for 21 hours— exhaustion was starting to drag at him; stims, he needed a stim. “Come on, son.” 

_That_ was enough to get him moving, feet crossing the deck plating before he’d fully finished processing the statement. Pike led him through the corridors, unerringly making their way to the captain’s quarters.

Looking around the space he’d barely moved into before losing his command, the older man quirked a wry smile and said, “Like what you’ve done with the place.” That was enough to make Jim smile, tiredly and despite himself. He let Pike press him down to sit on the small sofa, the admiral settling into a chair with a grunt. “I told Scott to give me a list of names he wants working on this with him. We’re pulling the complete transport logs from SFM for the last three months to see if there had been any issues previously. We’re also getting a record of all vessels in orbit, recent system upgrades, active experimental protocols from the physics labs, and an eyes-only copy of the defense proximity sensor logs for San Francisco.”

It was more than Jim would be able to do so quickly. He tried to say something grateful, but Pike continued before he could get a word out.

“Four hours.”

What? Jim cleared his throat and rasped, “What?”

“I want you to stand-down for four hours while we gather the information and Scott’s team gives it a preliminary review.”

“I can’t—”

“Jim,” Pike leaned forwards and his tone was _I believe in you_ and _It’s going to be okay_ as he continued, “We’ll get him back. Scott got that damned beagle back— we can find McCoy, but you need to rest now so you can keep going later.”

The admiral was right, of course, but he couldn’t help but protest, “Sir…”

“You need to be on point for this. No stims— not yet. Grab some rest and we’ll reconvene at 0800.”

Jim ached to rebel— to stomp back to the bridge and yell and cajole until someone could tell him what the fuck had happened and where Bones was. Pike was leaning forwards in the chair, cane balanced against his knees and piercing blue-eyes sharp. 

Confronted with such unwavering certainty, he felt himself capitulate.


	7. McCoy - Then

He’d slept in the gym.

Curled into a changing cubicle that was Hell on his back but tucked away from prying eyes; thank heaven for twenty-four hour facilities. He figured he’d have to spend the second night somewhere else— the law library was a likely spot. Those poor bastards pulled enough all nighters another body crashed out in the study section wasn’t likely to raise eyebrows.

Thankfully, the gym included access to a supply of protein bars and water. They tasted like chalk and Leonard had always suspected were surplus from old survival ration kits, but it was at least sustenance. There were towels provided as well so he’d showered, if not shaved. All in all it could be worse, but his communicator had stayed stubbornly silent. He caught himself closing his hand over it in his pocket as he darted from building to building, almost like a lifeline. _Come on, Jim_.

**********

Four days.

Four days of grabbing snatches of sleep in the library while pretending to be studying, begging his way into the gym to shower and stock-up on protein bars by pretending he’d left his bag (and pass) inside, and playing an increasingly fraught game of hide-and-seek with campus security. Leonard wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to be caught with his guard down. 

“Hey!”

Leonard turned, blinking in the too-bright sunlight to find Christopher-goddamn-Pike jogging over. “I never did get your name.”

The syllables were curt on his tongue, “Leonard.”

When a last name wasn’t forthcoming, Pike’s gaze flitted down to the tell-tale ration bar clutched half-eaten in his hand. “Did you sleep in the gym?”

The answer must have showed on Leonard’s face, because Pike ran a hand through his tousled blond hair to brush it back from his forehead and asked, “Do you want to get something to eat?”

He should have said no, but his stomach clamored in anticipation at the thought of something that wasn’t pre-processed and vacuum sealed. “You’re buying, kid.”

Pike just nodded, nose wrinkled in a way he’d grow out of by the time Leonard would meet him. Bypassing the commissary, the younger man led the way to a twenty-four hour diner at the edge of campus, politely ignoring the added cost of Leonard asking for double-bacon and an extra egg. Damn, he was starving. Pike ordered a grilled cheese sandwich as well, but from the way he only ate a third it might have been more to keep Leonard company than because he was interested in lunch.

Waiting until at least half the all-day breakfast was consumed, Pike’s gaze flitted down to Leonard’s medical kit and then back to his face before he asked, “So you’re a doctor?”

Mouth full of hashbrowns, Leonard nodded.

“And you’re Starfleet?”

Another nod.

“And there was a transporter—”

Swallowing hastily, Leonard held up a hand, “I can’t—”

Pike frowned. “And you can’t say what happened?”

Glumly, Leonard confirmed, “I really can’t.”

Lips thinning Pike seemed to be looking him over intently. Judging. “But you’ve been hiding out on campus, haven’t you? Or, at least, you have nowhere to go.”

There were lies, and then there were half truths and interpretations. “My ex took the whole damn planet in the divorce.”

“Are you AWOL?”

Leonard huffed a surprised laugh, “No. I’m not in that kind of trouble.”

“You could stay with me.” The offer came out quickly, as if it might not have been fully thought through.

Leonard made a noise of dissent, high in his throat, and must have looked panicky because Pike reached out to place a warm hand on his forearm as he repeated, “You could stay with me.”

It was sleep deprivation. Stress. The threat of being caught. All of the above, that made Leonard follow the younger man across campus to the graduate student housing. Pike’s apartment was small: barely larger than a berth on a starship. Just a small kitchen with an island, lounge barely large enough to fit a sofa and single chair, and a bedroom with a double bed pushed against one wall.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon, but when Pike explained that the sofa pulled out Leonard felt himself sag. The exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed, as the wariness in the other man’s eyes softened and he suggested, “Why don’t you get some rest? I have to go by the labs, but I’ll be back before dinnertime.” 

Leonard couldn’t resist the offer, toeing off his boots and stumbling over to lean against the wall as Pike bustled about extending the bed and finding a spare pillow and blankets. There was no polite way to describe how Leonard fell into the bed as soon as it was ready; less swan-dive and more face-plant. 

“Please,” Pike shifted on his feet, waiting until Leonard blearily looked up to continue, “please don’t rob me or anything.”

An attempt at a reply was lost in the pillow.

**********

Three and a half hours later Leonard blinked awake— still too wired to completely relax, despite his exhaustion. The sun was lower in the sky; Pike, _Chris_— he corrected himself, would be home soon. He wandered into the bathroom and washed his face, self-consciously drying it with the other man’s hand towel. Not wanting to snoop, or even _appear_ to be snooping, he returned to the small living room and folded the bed back into a sofa. That done, he sat on the edge of the sofa, not sure what to do with himself. There were a few possessions he’d seen before on the shelves: a hardbound book, a framed picture of an even younger Pike and Boyce with an antique motorcycle, and a little cut-glass ornament that must be a family heirloom.

It fortunately wasn’t long before an electronic beep preceded the front door sliding open. “Oh,” Pike paused in the doorway, briefly looking sheepish as he kicked off his boots, “You could have turned on the holo, if you wanted.”

Leonard cleared his throat, awkwardly replying, “Didn’t want to presume.”

A cloth bag was deposited on the bar in the small kitchen and Pike began unloading groceries into the stasis unit as he said, “We could go out, but I thought—”

Leonard quickly confirmed, “I’d be more comfortable staying in.”

Without making eye contact, Pike offered, “If you want to have a shower there’s a spare towel on the rail and I can get you some sweats to wear while we wash your clothes.” It was obviously more of a suggestion than an offer, and Leonard was forced to admit to himself that showering at the gym was one thing, but being unable to change clothes meant he was probably less than fresh.

Showering without fear of being accosted by gym security was more pleasurable than Leonard had expected. Holding his face under the hot spray, he rolled his shoulders to release the ever-present tension even as he tried to decide what the hell to do. _Minimize impact, don’t profiteer, don’t try to change history_. Easy enough for the assholes who wrote those rules.

The boxers, sweats and t-shirt smelled like industrial laundry soap; pulling them on, he tried not to think too much about their owner as he towelled his hair dry, even though the man was in the next room.

Squaring his shoulders, Leonard returned to find Pike had set two places on the kitchen island and was stirring a pot of something on the hot plate. “It’s just spaghetti— I hope that’s alright.” Flushed from the steam, there was an earnestness in the younger man’s expression that seemed to war with uncertainty.

“That’s fine,” Leonard felt an obligation to put Pike at ease, no matter how uncertain he felt as well, “Great, actually. I haven’t had homemade sauce in years.” And it was homemade, judging by the cutting board and empty jars. Moving to sit on one of the stools, Leonard waited while the younger man puttered around and dished up the meal, then, in an attempt to deflect, asked, “So what’s a young lieutenant like you doing around the academy?”

I’m command track, but,” Pike shrugged, an embarrassed smile curling his lips as he admitted, “I’m pretty good at the whole academic thing too. Admiral Archer thought that if I hung around this summer to finish a master’s and TA a few advanced tactical classes I could start a doctorate after my next tour or two. I’m up for a deep space mission on the Aldrin starting in the fall. If I don’t fuck that up I should get a promotion and another, better, posting as bridge officer. Maybe even first officer on the Yorktown.” He took a sip of his coffee and continued earnestly, “Everyone is eyeing the Kelvin as well— once its retrofits are completed Pip thinks that could be a good path to making captain.” Something skittered to a halt in Leonard’s brain, even as Pike continued, “She’s still on the Olympus— we were posted there after graduation.”

The goddamn _Kelvin_. It wasn’t going to be destroyed for six years. George Kirk was alive, somewhere, right now, and from the sound of it gunning for the command that would get him killed.

Something must have shown on his face, because Pike set down his fork and asked, “Leonard?”

“I—” What the hell could he say? Don’t try to hard for that posting, it’s supposed to go to someone else? We’ve got to talk to the Kelvin engineers and have a serious word about escape pods? 

“Leonard.” At the repeat, his gaze flicked up from somewhere over Pike’s left shoulder to meet familiar blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I— I can’t.” God, but he wanted to.

“You said something happened with the transporter. Was that the truth?”

“I—” He swallowed, “Yes.”

“Please, Leonard. I’m taking a hell of a risk inviting you to stay here; I don’t even know why, honestly. Phil always said I’m a sucker for charity cases, but something is clearly wrong and I want to help, if I can.”

Leonard wanted to tell him that he couldn’t help, so just drop it, but the truth was the younger man really was taking a risk for him. _Minimize impact, don’t profiteer, don’t try to change history_. He had no fucking idea what to do, beyond the increasing understanding that whatever had gone wrong was taking a long time to fix, and he needed help. He forced himself to make eye contact as he explained, “I’m the chief medical officer on a starship. Four days ago we were in Earth spacedock following a shakedown cruise of our vessel. I was assisting on a surgical procedure at Starfleet Medical; time was tight for making our slated departure, so I beamed up. Everything seemed fine, at first, but I materialized in the middle of campus feeling like my innards had been to a barn dance.”

“Couldn’t you contact your ship?”

Leonard was aware his eyebrows were probably doing something distracting and his voice sounded a little too tight in his throat as he replied, “My ship was in Earth spacedock… in 2259.”

It took a moment for that to be understood. After a moment Pike’s eyebrows drew together and he said, “Like the _year_ 2259?” When Leonard nodded, the younger man looked fit to fall off his stool before he seemed to gather himself and asserted, “We need to call Pip.”

Philippa Georgiou, it had to be. Killed during Leonard’s second year at the academy— the flags on campus had flown at half-mast for a week. “No!” A hand shot out, as if Pike was reaching for his communicator already.

The younger man’s blue eyes were wide, like a startled animal, as he asserted, “She’s the smartest person I know.”

Hands splayed on the flat surface in supplication, Leonard firmly said, “No one else, Chris, please.”

“So what do we do?”

That roiling, sinking feeling was back in his gut. “I have no idea.”


	8. Kirk - Now

Ninety-three hours. Bones had been missing for _four days_. And the most Scotty could say for sure was that, yes, they’d beamed him somewhere. As if that was supposed to be reassuring. And what had the last thing Jim had said to his best friend been? He could hear the words in his head, from both of them:

Bones first, grumbling over the comm even though they were slated to depart and it was obviously too late for a shuttle. “I signed aboard this ship to practice medicine, not to have my atoms scattered back and forth across space by this gadget.”

And Jim himself, flippant in his reply, “You're an old-fashioned boy, McCoy.”

An _old-fashioned boy_. What the fuck had he been thinking?

A hand dropped onto his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze as if sensing his maudlin thoughts. “It’s going to be okay, son.”

Pike.

Jim took a breath and nodded. The hand lingered for a moment, reassuringly, then the older man moved haltingly into his field of view. Even though he took care to hold himself straight, there was nothing he could do to mask the limp. The admiral had two cups of coffee and he slid one towards Jim before settling into the opposite chair.

Taking a grateful sip, Jim swirled the liquid around his mouth before he swallowed and asked, “How much longer will be you with us, sir?”

“I can manage appropriations from up here as well as I can from my desk.”

“I—” fuck, he was _terrible_ with feelings. “I appreciate it.”

Pike gave a small nod and took a sip of his own coffee before asking. “What’s the latest?”

Launching into the data from Scotty, Jim carefully catalogued everything they knew so far, which unfortunately wasn’t much. There was, at least, and thanks to Pike, a lead on an experiment that had been carried out at the same time as Bones had gone missing; something to do with chroniton particles that sounded pretty far-fetched. Chekov was still going to review the complete data once it was sent over from the science labs.

“Sounds like you can spare a few hours then.”

Jim raised an eyebrow in disbelief, indicating his near-empty mug.

“That was decaf.” Pike’s smile turned soft, but no less commanding, “Go to bed.”

He wanted to protest, but exhaustion was pulling at him like an undertow. “Aye, sir.”


	9. Pike - Then

For something brought about by a moment of totally unhinged generosity, Leonard made for surprisingly good company. Grudgingly humorous, even when he was trying to be reticent. Thoughtful, trying not to impose, and with an unwavering faith that his captain was going to get him back. Not to mention easy on the eyes.

They’d had a scotch that first evening, because, Jesus, Leonard was tense. A lack of sleep and regular meals meant it probably hit the other man harder than it should have. It wasn’t long before one scotch turned into two and Leonard was slumping back into the cushions of the sofa with a more unguarded look on his face and a looser tongue. He was still circumspect, of course, but by the time they put on a holo-drama he was freely offering cutting commentary on the medical aspects. He wasn’t just funny— he was obviously really fucking _smart_.

A second episode of the series later and Chris caught the older man starting to nod off, bangs falling forward as his chin slumped towards his chest. “Hey,” he gave Leonard a gentle nudge. “Go clean your teeth— there’s a spare sonic head under the sink. I’ll get the bed pulled out.”

He allowed himself to admire the view as Leonard shuffled off to the bathroom, even if he did feel a little guilty about it. The older man had a muscled bulk to him that filled out Chris’ clothes better than Chris himself. It was barely ten o’clock, but Leonard repeated his inelegant collapse from earlier in the afternoon and was snoring soon after. In sleep, the stressed lines on his forehead smoothed, and he seemed suddenly younger; much closer in age to Chris himself.

The next morning Leonard had still been dead to the world so Chris just left a spare padd and a note on the counter and crept out of the ‘fleet apartment. It was for the best anyway: he needed to think. Not that he got any real thinking done beyond, _What the fuck have you managed to get yourself into now, Pike?_ The voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Phil.

It was day three of cramped-but-enjoyable cohabitation that Leonard’s careless words came back to him, _A lieutenant like you_.

Setting down the knife he’d been using to dice garlic, Chris turned to where the other man was tossing a salad and asked, “You know me, somehow, don’t you? Not just my name.”

Leonard’s broad shoulders stilled and his gaze was ever so slightly wide-eyed when he looked up, swallowing before he said, “I mean, we’re both in the ‘fleet…” What was probably the start of a lie trailed off and he admitted, “But, yeah, I know you. I’ve— served with you; briefly.”

There was _something_ in those dark eyes that Chris didn’t quite understand, but he knew if he pressed Leonard was just as likely to clam up. Instead, he nodded, just once, and turned back to the garlic.


	10. Leonard - Then

A week.

A _goddamn_ week.

It was enough to make Leonard wonder if there was an older version of himself hidden away somewhere— in the depths of a medical research facility on some ‘fleet planet, or in early retirement out in the sticks in Georgia.

The one saving grace about the whole mess— the _only_ thing keeping him sane— was Chris. The younger man had just rolled with the whole situation: keeping up his ‘fleet obligations by day while helping Leonard research what could have happened by night. So far, everything pointed to his appearance in 2227 in particular, versus any other time and place, being a fluke. No anomalies had been recorded that day; no experiments or visiting aliens or anything out of the ordinary at all save for Leonard’s own abrupt appearance. 

Day six and they’d been forced to capitulate: so long as Leonard was adamant about not involving the admiralty there was nothing more they could do. They’d settled on a compromise of one month: if nothing happened within one month of him appearing then they’d approach a trusted flag officer for more help. Until then, he was going to lie low.

It was almost intolerable, being largely cooped up all day. He’d venture out occasionally now: with a cloned access card for Chris’ building and dressed for running so no one could question why he didn’t have an ID or personal credit chip. He still folded away the sofa bed every morning, as if he might not be there to sleep on it in the evening.

He felt on a knife-edge of losing it.


	11. Pike - Now

A week.

An entire _week_ of lying by omission to Jim and fobbing off Phil’s increasingly concerned comms. He’d always wondered about this: whether Leo had returned to his ship at precisely the time he’d gone missing or not. Whether Leo had returned to his ship at all. It had been almost a month, then. Chris wondered if he could keep Jim Kirk sane for another three weeks. 

He wondered if that was even how it worked at all.

“Admiral?”

It was that nurse, Chapel. She’d gently rubbed sweat and unmentionable fluids from his face and talked to him, late at night, when he was woozy from the drugs but the pain was too much like fire burning in his veins to let him sleep.

He fished in his memory and came up with: “Christine.” From the small smile it looked like he’d remembered correctly. “Please have a seat.” The mess hall was largely deserted; she must have come off odd hours in the med bay, maybe looking after a patient that straddled a shift change.

“Thank you, sir.” She set down a tray that contained a sandwich and a steaming mug of herbal tea. She took a bite of her sandwich, chewing and swallowing before she asked. “Will you be staying on board long, sir?”

“Just until we get Doctor McCoy back.” Chris shrugged, self-consciously, “I can’t do much, but I can make sure it stays a priority.”

“We’re all looking forward to having Leonard back.” Her gaze was clear, and brooked no suggestion that there could be any other possible outcome. In that moment he realized that Leonard’s staff were as devoted to the doctor as Jim’s were to their captain.

He managed a small smile and her expression softened as well. 

She took a sip of her tea and gently offered, “It’s good to see you again.”

And wasn’t that laden with connotation— from the look in her eyes she understood every single angle of it as well. From how far he’d come; how he’d cheated death twice; how she’d seen him more broken and vulnerable than just about anyone else in the universe, bar McCoy and Phil; to maybe something else besides. He wondered, then, if he’d given anything away after the Narada— when everything was a confusing swirl of pain and fear but _Leonard_ was there. He didn’t think so. McCoy and Kirk had certainly never let on, but both had been running on a high of adrenaline and newfound responsibility and straight up fear. Chapel was the one who’d have had time to _notice_.

Schooling his features, he kept the conversation mild, “I just wish it were under different circumstances.”

She nodded, and there was something almost approving in her eyes. Chris was surprised to find it mattered.


	12. Pike - Then

Two weeks.

Two weeks of burning the candle at both ends: keeping up with his ‘fleet duties by day and spending time with Leonard at night. The research had stopped, though— evenings the first week had been absorbed with trying to find anything that could explain the older man’s appearance on campus. Chris had tried _everything_ he could think of; wanting to bring some new theory or piece of evidence home each evening, just for the hope that would spark in Leonard’s eyes.

Week two was different. They hadn’t given up, per se, but called a truce with the universe: every avenue they could investigate on their own had been covered, but they’d agreed to give it a month before calling in reinforcements. Leonard had been adamant about that; his trust in his superiors in the future unwavering. He was also venturing out more: furtively, in borrowed gym clothes, but Chris was sure he’d spent an hour at the park the day before instead of just going for a run. 

The doctor was a pleasant houseguest; tidy and polite, but now settled into using Chris’ things without awkwardly asking first. Leonard had taken over dinner duty as well, and damn if there wasn’t something nice about getting home from classes or the science labs to find a hot meal and friendly face waiting for him.

He didn’t know when, exactly, it began to shift. Sometime well into the second week, most likely, but it still caught him by surprise one night as they nursed beers and watched a holo to find that he _liked_ the company. A lot.

Enough that he chanced leaning just a little bit closer when they were settled on the sofa together.

It was wrong, he knew, Leonard was adamant about non-interference and who knew what else. Any involvement probably counted as a no-no in the doctor’s books. Sure enough, the older man stiffened, pulling back slightly as he tried and failed to keep his eyes on the screen. Another possibility presented itself, “You miss someone, don’t you?” It was written all over the other man’s face; along with something that was a little too much like yearning to be ignored. A divorce that was at least semi-recent, no new ring, no mention of a partner. It made him wonder, “Does she know?”

The response was gruff, but soft, “He.”

“Does he?”

“No.”

“You should tell him.”

Leonard’s jaw twitched, like he was itching to retort, but couldn’t quite bring the words to his lips.

Retreating further back into his side of the sofa, trying to keep his limbs to himself, Chris changed the subject, “The summer semester is wrapping up next Friday; I’ll have a week of leave before I need to start getting ready for my next posting. You want to go somewhere?”


	13. McCoy - Then

They were afraid to go far, but the cabin out in the redwoods was just an hour by flitter from San Francisco proper and Leonard could be _outside_ as much as he pleased.

After three weeks slowly going crazy penned in by the institutional grey of ‘fleet dormitory walls, it was glorious.

Chris bought provisions, real charcoal for the barbecue and two cases of beer; the creek that flowed past the bottom of the property was warm enough to swim in. At times, stretched out on an outdoor chaise lounge with the sun kissing his bare skin, Leonard could almost forget it wasn’t shore leave.

Almost.

And even then only with a couple beers in him.

After two days the late-August sunshine brought out more golden highlights in Chris’ hair, which devolved into tousled curls when he let it air dry after swimming in the creek.

Over the last three weeks they’d settled into a truce in terms of topics that could be spoken of: childhood, yes; academy experiences in very vague and general terms, yes; specifics about vessels and tech, no; Leonard or Chris’ future role in the ‘fleet, no; and so on. It had made for some surprisingly revealing conversations. The night before, sitting in two Adirondack chairs arranged by the fire pit, Leonard had caught himself telling stories about his childhood in Georgia that even Jim didn’t know. 

_Jim_. Something tugged almost painfully in Leonard’s chest, quickly suppressed.

It was also a glorious form of torture: this Christopher Pike. With his floppy hair and kind eyes and hints from the week before that he wouldn’t mind getting to know Leonard better. The younger man had backed off, kindly, since sussing out that there was someone in the future that captured his attention, but for the first time in years Leonard allowed himself to regret getting so quietly hung up on Jim. Which was _total fucking madness_.

After the divorce if had probably been a defense mechanism: _Sorry, sugar, not interested; ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce and I’d rather hang out with my best friend._ Then as Jim fucked his way across campus Leonard had just trailed along afterwards, indulging in the odd hookup but never putting feelings on the line. It was a strategy that was bound to fail him eventually, and sure enough it had now been a year, an entire goddamn year, since he’d locked himself in the bathroom after patching Jim up following an away mission gone south and had a quiet little _crise de nerfs_ before admitting to himself that he had it bad for the captain. His best friend.

At least Jim hadn’t made any moves to settle down with anyone since getting the Enterprise. The kid seemed content to charm his way across the galaxy and then hunker down with Leonard and a shitty holo until they were drunk and passing out together on the too-small sofa in the captain’s quarters. If Leonard let himself drape a little overly-much against the other man, well, who could hold it against him? Jim certainly didn’t— although it never led to anything more. Hell, so far as he could tell Jim didn’t even notice.

But now, with over three weeks and no sign from the Enterprise… Leonard was feeling increasingly wrung out; emotional control fraying along with his last nerve. If they hadn’t got out of the city he’d have probably lost it already. As it was, the outdoors kept him from going stir-crazy, but the fear that whatever had happened was a one-way trip gnawed at his insides like a centaurian slug, pardon the analogy.

It didn’t help that Chris, his anchor in all of this, was both like the man he’d come to know and yet so very different. Admiral Pike, well, they didn’t know each other _that_ well, truth be told, aside from the particular connection that comes from having been wrist deep in another person’s viscera and a deep appreciation of how he’d seem to take Jim under his proverbial wing when the kid needed it. Kirk was the one who had bonded with the admiral through infrequent visits and no small number of pep talks, even if there was still an amount of hero-worship tinging that relationship. 

Perhaps it would have been easier if Leonard had that kind of relationship with Pike, because 2227 was a fucking inconvenient time for a sexual awakening. Curse Jim Kirk who had made him acutely crave _possibilities_ in the last year, while also making him turn his nose up at any overture that had passed his way. Eighteen-plus months was a hell of a dry spell, and it wasn’t like he’d been getting anything particularly regular before that. Curse Chris Pike for getting under his skin by being so damn kind and thoughtful and good company and utterly unselfconscious sharing close quarters. A man could only take so many cold showers.

In that miasma of stress and fear and wanting, it was predictable that _of fucking course_ he’d get caught looking. And not just looking, but ogling with a dry tongue and flush across his cheeks as Chris emerged from a morning swim. Day four at the cabin. He was amazed it hadn’t happened earlier.

The younger man caught him watching, because how could he not when Leonard was being so pathetically obvious about it. Chris’ initial unselfconscious shrug suddenly turned to keen _interest_ when Leonard didn’t quite manage to make himself look away fast enough. Lordy, did that man look good in board shorts.

Chris regarded him for a moment, then smiled, crossing the lawn like an animal stalking his prey. Stretched out on a towel, Leonard was pretty sure his mouth got stuck with the tip of his tongue protruding from his lips in an aborted attempt to moisten them.

There was something oddly tender in the younger man’s face as he looked down and asked, in a low rumble, “Can I call you Leo?”

As Leonard nodded, dumbly, Chris seemed to take that as permission and leaned over, a few drops of water falling on Leonard’s bare chest. He was given a long moment to pull back; to say no, but he didn’t do either and as Chris’ intent face filled his vision there was a deafening clanging in Leonard’s ears of, _Angels and ministers of grace defend us!_

As first kisses go it wasn’t great: he hadn’t been that tense since he’d tried to plant one on Rosie Marshall in the eighth grade.

The second, however, was spectacular.

At some point they rolled clear off the chair and onto the grass, laughing even as the breath was nearly knocked out of them. Chris wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling Leonard close as he pressed his lips to the crescent of skin behind his ear before murmuring, “Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay.”

Leonard hadn’t realized just how badly he needed to hear that.

Maybe that was what he’d been craving after all.


	14. Kirk -  Now

Starfleet Academy.

After all of Scotty’s analysis and Chekov’s math and Pike’s influence they’d worked out that the chroniton experiment had interfered with the beam, and most likely dropped Bones right back at Starfleet academy. It was like some kind of joke. It was hard to say for sure exactly _when_ Bones had landed, but Chekov was pretty sure it was within the last fifty years. Pike had asked to look over the numbers and seemed to concur.

Their best shot, according to Scotty, was to try and get McCoy onto a known transporter padd at a time that had the same _relative difference_ as when he’d first disappeared— they had to hope he still had his comm with him and wasn’t locked up somewhere after a month in the past.

A month without Bones. Jim hadn’t fully appreciated that it was the longest he’d been without his best friend since they’d first sat down on that shuttle together at the Riverside Shipyards. He’d never thought of himself as codependent until now, when everything seemed to remind him of the other man: 

Bones’ voice, echoing in his ears as Jim lingered over tidying his hair, _“Suck it up, Buttercup. We have to get going.”_

A thousand moments throughout the day when he had an urge of, _Wait ‘till I tell Bones..._

Sitting alone in his quarters at night, wondering if he should put on a holo without the benefit of Bones’ wry commentary or just try to go to sleep. _Honestly, Jim, I don’t know how you can watch this trash_. Nevermind that _Bones_ had been the one to replicate the popcorn.

Hell, he even missed the older man grousing at him for not eating enough vegetables, or getting enough sleep, or forgetting his vitamin booster.

Jim rolled over onto his stomach in the too-big bed, trying desperately to relax enough to get some sleep. They were going to try a transport cycle tomorrow; when it became clear they were as ready as they could be and it was up to Bones to have received the message, Pike had kicked everyone out to get some rest.

It was going to work, Jim told himself.

It had to.


	15. Pike - Then

_Leo_.

Phil would psychoanalyze the hell out of Chris if he ever told him about this month, but three days of watching the other man sunbathing had seriously tried his ability to behave. Damn, the man looked good in board shorts. The longer they were stuck together, the more they talked and the more they talked the more, well… the more attracted Chris felt. Catching Leo looking and blatantly _wanting_ that fourth morning at the cabin had been his breaking point. Fortunately, once the older man got over his initial reaction to have a heart attack it had been good. Great. _Fantastic_.

For both of them, if finding Leo whistling as he made lunch that afternoon was anything to go by. The man still sometimes flinched when Chris came up behind him, as if haunted by a guilty conscience, but he seemed to have gotten over his initial paralysis. Thank goodness the property was tucked into the forest: they’d done unmentionable things on the outdoor furniture, and in the creek, and on more than one surface in the main rooms of the cabin. And that was just the dam breaking on the first day. 

Moonlight was filtering into the bedroom where they hadn’t quite shut the curtains, it was just enough to see the curve of Leo’s nose and the outline of the defined muscles of his chest where he was sprawled unselfconsciously on his back. Chris stretched, pleasantly achy.

They had three more days before they were supposed to be back in San Francisco and their self-imposed deadline to talk to someone at the admiralty. And then only one more week before Chris was supposed to report to the Aldrin. Charles Archer was the person Chris was going to suggest talking to— the man was practically ‘fleet royalty, but more perceptive than most people gave him credit for. Not to mention that he could also work the system like a champion if he needed to. If there was anyone Chris trusted to make sure Leo was properly looked after, it was Archer. Chris had spent the last year looking forward to a deep space posting; and the Aldrin— most officers his age could only dream of it. Now...

Chris rolled over onto his side, curling against the line of Leo’s body. 

The older man stirred, but quickly settled when Chris ran his palm soothingly over a bare shoulder.

He didn’t want this to end.


	16. McCoy - Then

It was their last night in the cabin. Leonard stretched, overworked muscles aching, but in a good way given just how he’d got them into such a state. Chris was dozing in the soft light of a bedside lamp, features relaxed and making him look young and impossibly gorgeous. 

He couldn’t believe he’d let it get like this… but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it either. Leonard felt like a whole person in a way he hadn’t since the divorce. He felt alive, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been not quite himself for years. Safe— no matter what happened.

Thanks to Chris.

Lordy.

How the fuck was he going to explain that one when he got back to the Enterprise? If he got back at all. Selfishly setting that aside as a problem for future Leonard to deal with, he slid forward and nosed at the juncture of Chris’ neck and shoulder. It won him a hitch of breath, then a sleepy chuckle. Blue eyes blinked open and Chris smiled as he found himself regarded by Leonard, pursing his lips in a demand for a kiss.

Hurrying to comply with the younger man’s unspoken request, Leonard hitched closer and they exchanged lazy tongue-heavy kisses.

_Blip blip blip…_

It was coming from Leonard’s comm, faithfully set out on the bedside table every night. Chris raised his head sharply from the pillow, blond hair in disarray as he listened to the signal repeat once, twice, three times.

Something that must have been hope swelled in Leonard chest and he sat up, jaw slack as he whispered, “Morse code?”

“It’s the serial number for a ‘fleet transport pad.” Chris’ voice sounded leaden, as if he was struggling to match Leonard’s enthusiasm. “And a time: tomorrow night at ten-thirty. Shouldn’t be too hard to make sure you’re the one on the pad at that time on a Tuesday night.”

Leonard turned then, heart stuttering at the expression on the younger man’s face. “Chris—”

An index finger pressed against his lips cut off the rest of a sentence that was only half-formed in his mind. Chris rose to sit up as well, then leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Leonard’s lips before he murmured, “We knew this was unlikely to be forever.”

“Will you come with me?” To the transporter bay at least.

“Of course.”

And that night, Leonard sighed, pressing closer, they’d make the most of the time they had left.


	17. Pike - Now

Christopher Pike didn’t know how it ended.

He knew one version: where it ended at twenty-five with a transporter pad and an open-mouthed kiss. 

He’d been waiting thirty-two years to find out what happened after that.


	18. Kirk - Now

Jim nearly stopped breathing as Scotty manipulated the controls in earnest, no longer preparing but actively trying to establish a pattern lock. A whirl of light, and then a vague figure that was unmistakable— “Bones!”

The doctor turned, beaming, the name _Jim_ forming on his lips, only to freeze when he got a good look at the other man in the room.

Jim didn’t know what to think when Pike slipped past him and stepped up onto the transporter pad. The admiral stopped just short of Bones, but reached out and gently took him by the upper arms as he softly said, “Hello, old man.”

Jim felt acutely flummoxed when Bones gave an almost watery half-smile, something tender merging with something wistful as he replied, “Over thirty years.”

Pike raised an eyebrow, wrinkles fanning from the corners of his eyes. “And yet you haven’t aged a day.”

Bones barked out a laugh at that, curt and tinged with some unreadable emotion. 

Jim did stop breathing then, when a chaste peck on the lips was followed by a lingering hug that made something constrict tightly in his own chest.


	19. Pike - Now

It felt _good_.

So damn good to be hugging Leo, even knowing there was an audience. 

To be able to _finally_ mentally call him Leo, rather than the “McCoy” that had been a defense mechanism for almost five years.

He eventually pulled back to find Scott and the Russian math-whiz had their eyes politely averted, but Jim was staring right at them, mouth open as if he were made of wax. Loud enough for their audience, Chris tried to get things back on track. “I believe Nurse Chapel will want to check you out in the med bay.” Sensing Leo’s instinct to resist, he added, “I _can_ make that an order now.” There was only warmth in his tone and it was enough to make the younger man acquiesce with a nod.

“Jim.” Stepping off the pad, Leo pulled the captain into a one-armed hug which the kid returned despite still looking utterly stunned.

“Bones—” Jim looked between them, flummoxed for a moment, before he swallowed and hedged, “I take it you were in good hands?”

“Chris found me,” Leo confirmed, “I’d been sleeping in the law library and subsisting on free protein bars from the gym.”

The younger man’s nose wrinkled, presumably because he was familiar with the particular sawdust taste of substandard protein bars, but his eyes were conflicted. 

Gently placing a hand on Leo’s elbow, _Leo!_ Chris tried to steer them towards the door. The transporter bay was not the place for any one of the dozen conversations they needed to have.

“Right,” Jim swallowed, seemingly trying to get things back on track as well. “Do you want me to come, or, uh, I guess I should go report to command.”

Chris was acutely aware that in any other circumstance Jim wouldn’t have been dissuaded from trailing Leo to the medical bay and hovering until the doctor was released.

Now, however… Leo’s gaze slipped from the younger man and back to Chris even as he answered, “I’ll be fine, Jim, thanks.”

“Okay.” Jim blinked, awkwardly hovering but seemingly unaware of it. “Good. I’ll see you later.” He left before Chris could point out that it was already rather late in the evening.

Chekov and Scott took that as a cue that they were dismissed as well, slipping out of the room after bidding Leo goodnight and welcome home. It was Chris who lingered next to Leo all the way to the medical bay, only stepping back when Chapel wrapped him in a tight hug before commencing a thorough series of scans. When the doctor was eventually given a clean bill of health Chris felt a measure of stress he hadn’t realized he was carrying lift; he felt almost giddy in relief.

Chapel set down her scanner, favoring them both with a smile as she said, “Get some rest, Len, you must be exhausted.”

Chris barely managed to suppress a smirk, because from what he remembered Leo’s only overexertion recently had been in the bedroom. Leo just nodded, although his cheeks did pink in a manner that suggested he was thinking of the same thing.

They walked side-by-side through the corridors, shoulders brushing as Leo carefully matched his hitching gait. Slow at the best of times, the stress of the last month was asserting itself and Chris felt his steps falter. The younger man seemed to sense it, because he glanced sideways with an expression that was somehow both shy and tender. Nothing like the stern persona of Doctor McCoy that Chris was familiar with from this time. 

They wound up at Leo’s quarters as if by unspoken agreement, the younger man stood aside in invitation and Chris swallowed down sudden nerves to walk through the door.

Leo trailed a hand over the back of his sofa, as if getting reacquainted with his own furniture.

Chris stepped further into the room and turned so he could lean back against the wall for support instead of sitting down. Trying to find an avenue, he offered, “Jim looked like he could catch some flies.” Leo’s ears pinked, just like they used to when Chris teased him thirty-two years ago. Taking a deep breath, Chris made sure he had the younger man’s undivided attention before he asserted, “You should still tell him.”

“_Chris_...”

His response was similarly monosyllabic, warm, but firm. “Leo.”

A moment, and then, “Is that it?” Leonard raised an eyebrow, frozen on the other side of the room. Drawl lengthening with an indistinct emotion, “You’re just going to step into the background now?”

He’d had years to prepare for this, but it didn’t make it any easier as he asserted, “I did that almost five years ago, when I saw you two misfits sitting in the back of my shuttle.”

Leo’s eyebrows were drawing together as he considered that. “How could you?” Genuine confusion was plain in the question; because they hadn’t been together long— barely any time at all, truth be told, but the connection had been strong nonetheless. 

Chris sighed, huffing out a long breath before he admitted, “I let myself care about him.” One corner of his mouth quirked up, as if at a memory. “George was a year below me at the academy, but we were both in Archer’s senior tutorials and knew each other pretty well by the end of it. He was a good friend, and a good person. Kind. Dynamic. My dissertation on the Kelvin was something of a personal choice— I had to know what happened; to make sure they didn’t undermine what he’d done. He’s George’s son, Leo, and damned if Jim doesn’t look like his father sometimes. I saw him in that bar and I couldn’t walk away.” Chis voice dropped as he admitted, “I saw you and him together, and I just _knew_.”

“Did you hate me?” Leonard swallowed. “For not saying anything? Stopping the Kelvin or warning the fleet about Vulcan,” something more vulnerable flickered in his eyes, “or letting you go onto the Narada.”

Something twisted in Chris’ chest, because he’d be lying if he claimed he hadn’t been furious at the universe at times in the last couple years. He’d also had a chance to make his peace with it, with no small amount of help from Phil. “Leo, I was twenty-five when you knew me. The rules were clear. What could you have done?”

“I could have said something!” The forbidden possibilities that had been eating away at him for weeks erupted and he waved a hand between them, “I could have given you a padd with a file locked until 2258. I could have left some kind of delayed-delivery message in your comm system, I could—”

Chris shook his head and Leo seemed to deflate, the younger man’s mouth working soundlessly for a moment before he sighed then softly asked, “Stay— just for tonight?” 

Leo’s eyes were hard to read; he was out of practice at detecting unguarded emotion in them. His voice sounded thin to his own ears. “I shouldn’t.” He really, _really_, shouldn’t.

Leo took a step forward, moistening his lips before he added, “Please?” 

How could he say no?


	20. McCoy - Now

It was and wasn’t the body he knew well. The height and warm bulk of Chris was familiar, but he was leaner and under his clothes there was no doubting his age. The scarring on his chest was startling, particularly by modern standards. After Khan, Leonard had been too absorbed in Jim’s treatment to even sneak a peek at the admiral’s charts. Now, he ran his hand over the ropes of thick, too-shiny skin and regretted taking the second miracle of those weeks for granted.

Voice hoarse, he murmured, “Did you know Jim thought you were dead when we first set off after Khan? You’d flatlined by the time they pulled you out of Daystrom, and in the confusion there wasn’t a clear list of KIA and injured circulated until a few days later.” 

“From what Phil says I pretty much was. Good thing you doctors don’t turn your backs on lost causes.” The words could have been a joke, but there was no levity at all in Chris’ tone.

Leonard reached out and Chris shied backwards, “Leo, I’m fifty-seven years old in a beat-up body; we both know even the average human lifespan is optimistic at best for me. You’ve got a solid basis of four years of friendship on the cusp of turning into something more with a twenty-six year-old genius who also happens to be a kinder, more thoughtful person than he used to let on. Don’t tell me I’m the better option here.”

Leonard didn’t move closer, but he firmly replied, “What about what I _want_?”

Chris shook his head, that tone of authority and command that he’d cultivated over the years apparent as he pushed back, “Don’t try and tell me that either.”

“Why not?”

A wave of conflicting emotion flitted across Chris’ face before he finally took a step forwards even as he said, “Look, you just got back. Everything is probably a little overwhelming right now— I should probably go.”

“Can’t we just sleep?”

Leonard could see the moment Chris capitulated; the moment his shoulders dropped in acquiescence and he reached for the spare t-shirt set out on the bed. Pulling the garment roughly over his head, hiding the scarring and diminished muscle tone, he softly grumbled, “I guess we can argue in the morning about who has worse judgement.” 

A little stab of guilt went through Leonard at that, because it was pretty much his fault they were in this damn strange situation. 

Chris must have noticed because he sat down on the bed and his tone was soft as he indicated the other side of the mattress, “Come on: I’m in desperate need of a full night’s sleep and I’ll bet you are too.”


	21. Kirk - Now

Jim wasn’t jealous.

Or sulking.

Or any of the hundred other things that he was probably allowed to do given how the world had just wobbled on its axis. He’d straightened his uniform and gone straight to his quarters to comm the admiralty with an update. Barnett had taken the news of Bones’ return with no small measure of relief, then asked if Jim had a suggested re-launch date. Yes, tomorrow, and could they drop Pike on Earth immediately? What came out instead was, “I’d like a week to give everyone who was working on the problem a few days of leave and then get settled in again for departure.” Barnett nodded, approvingly, motioning for a yeoman to get started on the paperwork then signing off for the night. 

It was after eleven and the lack of sleep over the last month was weighing on him, but when Jim changed into his sleepwear and stretched out on his bunk he found himself acutely awake. The scene from the transporter room played itself over and over. If they had just _hugged_, well, Jim could explain that. The kiss— however brief and chaste— that left a wakeful buzzing in his ears.

Soft words into the dark room: “What the fuck, Bones?”

Jim’s voice sounded hurt to his own ears.


	22. Pike - Now

They’d started with a no-man’s land of mattress between them.

They work up curled around each other like Chris was twenty-five again. Except he wasn’t, so consciousness came at 0600 with an ache in his lumbar region and a need to piss. 

Leo was still deeply asleep so Chris carefully untangled their limbs and limped to the head, steadfastly avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. Done, he stood for a moment outside of the closed bathroom door: Leo was relaxed, snoring softly even as one hand seemed to be reaching out towards the empty side of the bed.

He should pull on a uniform, and go.

He carefully crawled back into the warm bed instead.


	23. McCoy - Now

Warmth.

A familiar bed.

A vague awareness of another body.

The faint thrum of ship’s engines.

_Ship’s engines_. Leonard’s eyes snapped open and his whole body gave a jerk as he snapped to full awareness that he was _back_. The movement disturbed his bed partner, who rolled over with a grunt. 

Chris.

No— Admiral Pike. Leonard’s hand faltered where he was already reaching out, but the older man’s eyes were kind and he couldn’t help but continuing the motion to run a finger over the white of one sideburn. 

The gesture was met by a flush, as if Pike was acutely aware of what Leonard was seeing.

He was _old_.

So much older than twenty-five. 

Hell, so much older than Leonard himself.

His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, because he found himself cupping a cheek and smoothing the pad of his thumb over the fan of wrinkles around Pike’s left eye. The older man held himself still, allowing the exploration even as he seemed to be drinking Leonard in with his gaze.

Eventually, Pike snaked out a hand of his own, cupping Leonard’s cheek for a moment before carefully pulling back to ask, “Do we know where we stand?”

Leonard shrugged, helplessly, because damned if he knew. They hadn’t kissed since that brief touch of lips on the transporter pad, and for all that being close brought comfort, moving for more didn’t strictly feel right. 

The older man seemed equally conflicted, gaze flicking over Leonard even as a small, sad little smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Slipping back, out of reach, he asked, “So which one of us gets to talk to Jim?”

“I should.” Lord, he didn’t want to, but if anyone was to blame it was Leonard himself.

Pike nodded, rolling onto his back to watch as Leonard slipped out of bed and quickly dressed. 

He ducked into the bathroom, then tugged on his boots before he realized he was unsure how to say goodbye. What he settled for was standing awkwardly in the doorway of his sleeping area and offering, “I’ll see you later.”

“Leo.” The call made him turn to find the older man watching, eyes twinkling in a way that was pure _Chris_, “If you’re not back by lunchtime I’ll send a search party to find your body.”

Leonard laughed, despite himself.

**********

It didn’t help that he found Jim standing in front of the guest quarters next to his own.

The younger man looked up quickly, frown initially lifting when he spotted his friend. “I was looking—”

“He’ll be up soo—” Leonard’s mouth snapped shut, biting off the final syllable as he realized what he was giving away. Jim visibly stiffened, mouth opening in a way that had him quickly interject, “Not here.” Holding up a hand between them, he added, “We’ll talk, okay, but in your quarters.”

It was a short, awkward walk to the captain’s quarters. Red-eyed as if he hadn’t slept well, Jim’s opening salvo was to be expected: “Jesus, Bones, you couldn’t keep it in your pants? What happened to non-interference?”

Embarrassment burned up his throat as he instinctively retorted, “Dammit, Jim, you weren’t there! It was fucking terrifying and he kept me safe and we had to live cooped up together for weeks and—” Leonard’s voice dropped to a guilty grumble, “and he was fucking gorgeous, okay?”

Jim’s blue eyes were impossibly wide as he gasped, “It’s _Pike_!”

Just as quickly, Leonard shot back, “Have you _seen_ old photos of him?”

Jim looked disgusted, as if Leonard had suggested fucking his sister. The younger man took a moment to regroup, then fired back, “Were you taking advantage of him?”

“What!” Leonard may have instigated the conversation, but it had rapidly spiralled out of his control.

“Well,” Jim crossed his arms over his chest as he pressed, sensing weakness, “I wouldn’t want to be left all alone in the past. Did you decide you needed some _companionship_ to smooth things over?”

The words cut to the quick; taking a breath to deliberately try and de-escalate, Leonard admitted, “I was scared, Jim, okay? Maybe I didn’t admit it at the time like I should have, but after a few weeks I was fucking terrified I was stuck there and even then I was acutely aware I was going to Hell for acting on it, but it crept up on me— on _both_ of us, I think. I was practically confined to his quarters for weeks and we had this goddamn deadline that if I hadn’t heard from you in a month— a _month_— we were going to have to go to command and who knows what they would have done to me then. Chris was going to ship out a week after that and leave me behind and it was fucking terrifying and dammit, Jim, he’d shown he was interested and even though he backed off it was just— he’d been _swimming_ and he caught me _looking_ and—” The words were just tumbling out faster than Leonard could even process what he was saying.

Jim’s chest was heaving as violently as Leonard’s as he asked, “And what now? Do you think he’s been waiting for you or something?— Has he spent thirty years thinking you could be right around the corner?” For a moment, Jim sounded upset on Chris’ behalf, which Leonard figured was a good thing. The older man didn’t deserve any misspent anger.

Not that Leonard was willing to take any himself: “He knew roughly when I was from, Jim.” Whether Pike had been waiting anyway was, Leonard realized, strictly speaking another question. One that he didn’t quite know how to answer beyond a gut feeling the answer was no; particularly after how Chris had described seeing him and Jim in the shuttle from Riverside.

“So what? Are you, like, fucking now?”

“Damned if I know.” Leonard couldn’t help but cross his arms defensively over his chest; the gesture seemed to make Jim peer at him, curiously.

“You didn’t…” It was clearly a question about last night, rather than before.

“We just slept.”

“Oh.” Jim blinked, then asked, “Do you _want_ to sleep with him, Bones?” Jim’s eyes were suddenly, surprisingly, kind and his voice was a little lost and it was, _Yeah, you go. Be safe_, all over again.

That instinct rose up in Leonard. The one that was: _Dammit, come with me_. What came out of his mouth was, “Oh, Hell, kid.”

Jim just looked even more lost at that.

Unable to stop himself, Leonard swallowed convulsively and asked, “Don’t you hate me?”

“What?” Jim frowned, like he didn’t understand the question.

“The Kelvin wasn’t destroyed yet. The battle of Vulcan hadn’t happened. Khan.” The kid was still frowning like he didn’t understand what he was being asked. “Jim, I could have _stopped_ it.”

Jim shook his head without even needing to pause to think as he asserted, “You know the rules, and I don’t get the sense you did yourself any favors, Bones.”

Jim Kirk, of all people, quoting the goddamn rules at him. There had been a night, too, stretched out on the slightly lumpy sofa-bed in Chris’ front room where he’d been acutely aware of the younger man’s unlocked padd sitting on the kitchen counter. The temptation to draft just one message was so acute Leonard had clenched his hands until little crescents of blood welled in his palms. Fewer than ten words, time-locked to send in twenty-five years, _Start with the delta-alleles and work backwards_. Not much, but something that would make a breakthrough come just in time for David McCoy.

Leonard let out a long, tremulous breath, unsure what Jim was reading on his face but knowing it was hopelessly unguarded. Trying to gather himself and get back onto ground that felt less like emotional quicksand, he asked, “Did Chris help get me back?”

“He showed up six hours after we lost you.” The truth of the situation had slowly dawned on Jim overnight, “Must have been monitoring you somehow. I guess he wasn’t allowed to say anything too overt, given the time-travel regs, but he was throwing his weight around to get access to all the data that could help, classified or not, and get a team to support Scotty. I don’t know what the admiralty would have done otherwise, but he commed Barnett and then there was never any question that the Enterprise could stay in spacedock until we worked out what had happened.” Jim took a breath and admitted, “I guess he kept me sane too.”

That made two of them.


	24. Kirk - Now

Something that must have been memory mingled with relief flickered across the older man’s face and Jim felt a tug in his chest of, _Bones_.

The last twelve hours hadn’t been at all like he’d expected. It was perhaps that more than anything that made him blurt out, “I don’t want to lose you, Bones.”

“What?” Bones’ eyebrows drew together as he asserted, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jim could scarcely hear his own voice. “No,” he clarified, “I mean I don’t want to lose you to Pike.”

Something that was hard to read flitted through hazel eyes. “Jim, I’d go to the ends of the Earth for you, but you never _had_ me. Not like that.” Jim tried to formulate a denial because whatever was in those hazel eyes was turning towards something that might be anger. The older man held up a hand and cut him off sharply, “No— I know what you meant. And I’ve spent almost five years looking after you, and let me tell you sometimes it felt more like _trailing_ after you as you fucked anything that looked amenable and expected me to be there to deal with the aftermath. And heaven help me, Jim, eventually I realized I wanted more and it’s been over a year, a goddamn _year_, and—”

Once Bones got on a roll it was hard to get a word in edgewise. It was desperation that had Jim crossing the deck plating of his own quarters, taking the other man by his shoulders and pressing their mouths together.


	25. McCoy - Now

Oh.

Lordy.

How the fuck was this his life?

Jim’s tongue was insistently burrowing its way into his mouth and Leonard couldn’t help but give a little moan of appreciation, which only seemed to spur the other man on.

They pulled apart, panting. Leonard swiped the back of his hand over his lips without thinking what the gesture could convey. A tension in Jim’s shoulders made the younger man look ready to bolt, even though he’d been the instigator. While he had him, Leonard asked, “Why now, Jim?”

“I’m selfish?”

It sounded like a question as much as a statement.

Thinking of all those claps on the back on duty and shared drinks in the observation lounge and sprawling together on the sofa to watch a holo after a long shift, Leonard asked, “Did you know?” Jim looked like he was going to pretend he didn’t understand the question, so Leonard clarified, “Did you know how I felt, this whole last year?”

Jim’s cheeks hollowed as if he was biting the inside of them; it was enough to let Leonard know he had to wait it out. Eventually, grudgingly, Jim admitted, “I thought maybe.”

It was probably an understatement; it was enough to make Leonard’s stomach clench and he pressed, “Why did you wait? Leave me hanging like that—” A whole year’s worth of insecurities met four previous years of frustration, “I thought you didn’t have any deeper interest in me at all.”

“I’ve never done this with someone I cared about.” And didn’t that feel like a punch to the gut despite the earnestness in Jim’s blue eyes.

“Hell, Jim.” It was just a genuine first reaction, but the younger man shrank back at the words. Impulsively, Leonard reached out and drew him into a tight hug, surprised at how Jim let out a shuddering breath before tucking his face into the juncture of neck and shoulder. 

Goddamn it. 

Jim gripped him more tightly and Leonard brought his hands up to rub over the younger man’s back. Goddamn it all to Hell.

The moment was broken by the comm. It was Uhura, businesslike but apologetic as she hailed the captain rather than waiting for him to appear on the bridge. Jim jumped backwards as if burned, head swivelling to the device in apparent disbelief. “I— I need to get this.”

Leonard backed off more sedately, hands up between them. “I know. It’s fine. I’ll just— go check out the med bay.”

Jim dove for the comm.

**********

Leonard let himself out without a backwards glance, thoughts swirling too fast to process. Jim. Chris. _Pike_. 

He let his feet carry him down to the medical bay, where Chapel seemed to be on her way out.

“Christine?”

“Len!” She smiled broadly, but barely slowed her pace. “Didn’t you get the update? The captain has pushed back our launch date: we have today to get things squared away, then four days of leave starting tomorrow morning, then forty-eight hours to return and prep for departure.”

Well, Leonard drawled, surprised Jim hadn’t mentioned anything, “That’s mighty kind of him,” Christine’s good cheer always brought out his drawl, “I guess everyone is in need of a break after the last month.”

She slowed enough to run a hand along his arm as she passed, “Everyone was working pretty hard, Len. It’s good to have you back.”

He smiled in return, relieved to have something to focus on and a deadline to work towards. Being in spacedock didn’t mean there wasn’t the usual stream of butterfingers engineers, minor accidents and colds, so it was easy to bury himself in work through lunchtime. And once he’d kept his head down through lunchtime, it was easy to keep on going through dinner as well. At one point he was dimly aware of Chris poking his head through the medical bay doors, but Leonard kept his head down; he felt acutely unprepared to deal with any of this.


	26. Pike - Somewhere in Between

Leo vanished in a swirl of light.

Chris waited five minutes. 

Ten. 

Fifteen. 

Just in case.

He went through the motions.

He shipped out on the Aldrin a week later. Made lieutenant commander; got shot on a landing party when a local dispute boiled over to a civil war. As he was bleeding into a dusty street while an ensign hovered over him yelling for a beam, Chris realized he wasn’t afraid: he hadn’t met Leo yet, so he couldn’t die.

He got promoted to commander and caught Rigelian fever from a refugee. When Phil’s terrified face swam into view through a haze of fever and pain, Chris realized maybe that trust in his own survival was misplaced. McCoy was a doctor— what if, “_I’ve— served with you; briefly_” was another way of saying, “_I’ve seen your vegetative husk in the bowels of ‘fleet medical_.”

He recovered, made captain, and got his sights set on the Enterprise from the minute the plans crossed his desk on the Yorktown.

Got a girlfriend. It didn’t work out.

Memories got fuzzier as time passed.

Got a boyfriend. Partner. Whatever you called it after forty. They drifted apart with a quadrant of space between them.

He’d still dream of the cabin, from time to time; waking up in a sweat with Leo’s name on his lips.

He wondered when they’d meet. If they could have crossed paths already and he’d missed it.

Leo had never told Chris his last name.


	27. Pike - Now

“Shit!” Heart hammering, Chris rolled over in the dark. 0230— he’d only been asleep for a couple hours, but he felt wide awake. The dream hadn’t been so vivid in years: Leo, laughing at something on the holo; stirring something on the stove when he got home from the labs; stretched out on the lawn of the cabin; looking at him with kind eyes; saying his name, “_Chris_.”

He clawed his way out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, turning on the lights and splashing water on his face. His reflection in the mirror was disheveled and a little too pale and he couldn’t suppress the thought that, _damn_, he’d slept well the previous night with Leo.

He’d spotted the younger man in the med bay around dinnertime; hadn’t heard from him after the younger man left to talk to Jim first thing in the morning. He knew Leo could sense he was there, but the doctor kept his face turned resolutely to his padd.

He’d walked out and nearly run into Jim, obviously on his way towards the med bay. The kid had looked slightly panicked at the sight of Chris, abruptly veering down a side corridor. _So_, he’d thought at the time, _looks like no one knows quite where they stand_. Which meant that unacknowledged thing brewing between Leo and Jim was finally being talked about. Well, Hell.

"You're a Starfleet officer,” Chris reminded himself, “you believe in service, sacrifice, compassion, and love.” 

When he put it like that, there was only one thing he could do.


	28. Kirk - Now

Mojave.

Beyond the manicured parkland, the desert sky opened up above scrubland and rocks. It was beautiful, in its own way.

Pike had a ranch. A real, honest to goodness ranch, with someone hired to look after the horses. Bones had just _lit up_ when he got a look at the stables.

Jim still wasn’t sure what the fuck was happening. He’d woken up to a message, sent at 0300, informing him that the surface-transport arranged by Admiral Pike would be departing at 0930, his calendar was cleared for shoreleave, and he wasn’t to be late. It was perplexing enough that he’d meekly packed a duffle with four days worth of clothing and walked down to the shuttle bay. When Bones appeared with a similarly sized bag and a look of consternation on his face, Jim couldn’t help but wonder if it was a set-up.

Pike appeared a moment later, without a bag, although perhaps someone had already loaded it for him. He favored them both with a tight smile that looked a little tired around the edges as he explained, “I didn’t trust any of us to not try and work through the days off, so I took steps. After you, gentlemen. Kirk, you’re copilot.” It was a sobering reminder that Pike still wasn’t medically cleared to pilot solo; Jim swallowed down the little tug of regret that accompanied that thought and settled into one of the front seats.

The flight plan was… Jim blinked. California? Not San Francisco, that was for sure. He was half distracted by how Bones' breathing accelerated as soon as they cleared the launch bay doors, but it was a short flight and soon they were lower than a commercial airliner. Instead of a regional shuttleport, they veered away from a small city and entered a descent pattern that had them landing on a purpose-built pad in front of a sprawling house.

And it was _sprawling_, with solar panels glittering over the roof and a wide veranda along the front. Pike gripped his cane and led the way on a tour that encompassed a large front room with a fireplace, well-stocked kitchen, library, and a vague reference to an office before returning back to the front door. “I’m over there.” Pike waved a hand to indicate one corridor off the front room. “You’re in the guest wing. Why don’t you drop your bags and sort yourselves out, then I can show you the property.”

They shouldered their bags and walked awkwardly side-by-side in the indicated direction. One room was large, almost a master bedroom in its own right and… “Look, Bones,” Jim forgot himself for a moment and motioned excitedly, “there’s a hot tub outside and it’s a dark sky community.” The view at night would be _amazing_.

A flush tinged the tips of Bones’ ears and he motioned towards the bed, “Then you take this one and I’ll grab the other.” The other room across the hallway turned out to be smaller, but comfortable, with a view towards distant mountains. 

They dropped their bags, Jim trying not to think too hard on what might be implied by the sleeping arrangements, then forced down his uncertainty and trailed the older man back to the front room.


	29. McCoy - Now

They’d gone riding— all three of them. Jim more at ease on a horse than Leonard would ever have expected. Evidently there’d been an uncle in Idaho with horses, and Jim had spent a happy summer staying on the farm. Leonard, well, McCoys never quite remembered learning to ride, given they were started on it so young. Chris rode with the posture of someone who should be able to do it with an easy grace, but there was a stiffness about his movement that could only come from lingering neuropathy.

Lunch had been a picnic in the well-manicured parkland closer to the nearest city. Jim had lived up to his reputation of being nothing if not versatile by sprawling out on a blanket, eating an apple while catching up on ‘fleet gossip and avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. Chris just rolled with it as well, although Leonard had the sense he was being watched, closely, even under the guise of casual conversation. After lunch they headed out into the desert— so different from Georgia, but beautiful nonetheless. It was easier, out there, to quiet the worry in his head and just exist in the first relative peace of the last few days.

When they made it back to the house Chris had dismounted stiffly and with a visible wince, so Leonard had volunteered to look after the horses while the others made their way slowly back to the house with an awkward gait.

Brushing down the animals, Chris’ words from before were ringing in his ears: “_You should still tell him_.” He wondered if the older man had guessed what happened when he went to talk to Jim; whether he knew it had been left at an impasse.

It seemed increasingly clear which bed Pike was determined to lie in: literally as well as figuratively. He could have invited Leonard to come alone. He could have put Jim in the master suite and given them the wing with rooms across the narrow hall. Instead, well, it was one hell of a statement, even masked with not unmerited concern about overwork. 

Jim’s horse nudged him good-naturedly to encourage Leonard to keep going; he hadn’t even realized he’d paused. Shaking himself, he finished everything that needed to be done for the evening and made his way back to the house, relishing his aching muscles as he did so.

Opening the back door he found Chris and Jim cooking dinner. It was a more domestic interaction than he’d ever seen them engage in: the mantle of mentor-turned-friend usually meant they met in offices, the admiralty club, and the occasional restaurant or bar. Leonard wasn’t sure if Jim had been to the older man’s personal apartment in San Francisco before; he certainly hadn’t himself. This house— it was a privileged insight into Chris’ life.

He excused himself for a shower, returning to find the two men sitting slightly awkwardly around the kitchen table; it didn’t seem like any meaningful conversation had happened in his absence. Chris turned the stem of a wineglass between his fingers and smiled up at Leonard, relaxing slightly with his presence to ask, “They okay?”

The horses. “Yeah, they settled down just fine.” There was an empty glass and an open bottle on the table, so Leonard helped himself and slid into the third chair. Jim managed a smile and even initiated clinking glasses between the three of them. Taking a sip confirmed the wine was good. _Very good_. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from Christopher Pike.

Jim seemed to be appreciating it as well, so Leonard swallowed and asked, “Looked pretty busy in here earlier; what’s for dinner?”

“There’s some chicken in the oven along with scalloped potatoes,” Chris indicated the younger man with his thumb, “Jim made a salad, and there’s a pie for dessert.”

Real food. The Enterprise’s kitchens and resequencers were good, but nothing beat home cooking. He’d been spoiled with access to Chris’ kitchen for the last month, cramped though it had been. Jim seemed to have perked up in anticipation as well, which was no surprise given the smells starting to come from the oven.

Chris topped up Jim’s glass and his own, then asked, “How did it feel to be back in the saddle?”

Leonard snorted at the expression, but was unable to mask the enthusiasm in his tone as he replied, “Really good— hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it these past years.”

“Tango Junior is used to being exercised in the morning— you’re welcome to take him out whenever you get up.”

It sounded _wonderful_— he felt his pulse quickening at the thought of being out alone, riding under a desert sky. “Yeah; I just might.”

The oven chimed and it was Jim who jumped up, probably mindful of Chris’ cane leaning against the wall. The food was as good as it smelled, and they somehow settled into the safe topic of horse stories— Jim entertaining them all with tales of his exploits galloping across the Iowan countryside and jumping over ravines. When one bottle of wine was depleted it was replaced by another, and then another, and that more than anything seemed to help them relax into something resembling their previous camaraderie. 

The world was fuzzy when Jim caught him yawning and raised an eyebrow. Leonard slouched in his chair and shrugged, not every trying to hide that he was pleasantly drunk. Chris must have caught the interaction because he placed a palm flat on the table and gently ordered, “Looks like it’s time for bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Leonard didn’t remember bidding Chris good night, but when he reached his bedroom door a soft, “Sleep well, Bones,” caught his ears.

He waved a hand vaguely behind himself before stumbling for the bed, not quite sure if he managed to reply with an ever-so-slightly slurred, “Night, Jim.”


	30. Pike - Now

Chris blinked awake to a sour taste in his mouth and a throbbing ache in his lumbar region. Well, at least it was partially a hell of his own making. A little _zing_ of sciatica on his weak side gave a warning, but he ignored it as he struggled out of bed and into a shower.

He ran the water as hot as he could tolerate and it helped, a little. Chris hadn’t tried riding for so long since Nero, and it didn’t help that being cooped up on the Enterprise for the last month meant he’d neglected some of his physical therapy. By the time the bathroom had filled with steam he felt marginally more human again— enough to pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and go in search of breakfast.

What he found was Jim in the kitchen, barefoot, nibbling on a piece of toast with crumbs scattered over the counter.

“Where’s Leo?”

The nickname came out without thinking, but it made the kid give a visible twitch before he replied, “Bones is out riding. I think he left about fifteen minutes ago— I wasn’t quite up yet.”

Sure enough there was a padd propped up against a mug on the counter, _Don’t wait for me for lunch_.

Huh.

Kirk seemed deliberately absorbed in his toast, so Chris poured himself a cup of coffee and helped himself to a danish; no one made them quite like the bakery in Mojave City. Food. Coffee. By the time he’d drained half the mug he was feeling distinctly more human. Unfortunately, the ache in his lumbar region was back; Chris tried surreptitiously shifting on his feet in search of a better position.

“Can we talk?”

Chris turned quickly in surprise at Jim’s words and his back gave a little pinch of pain, which was repeated down in his hip and then the back of his thigh. _Shit_. Not the fucking time. Chris pushed the thought of the pain way and nodded, waving towards the doorway.

Following Jim into the front room, Chris stood beside one of the long sofas and tried not to appear defensive. They regarded each other for a moment; both trying to assess the other and failing. Just as Jim eventually opened his mouth, something gave a little pop in the base of his spine and it was swiftly followed by a racing burn of sciatica that took his breath away. Chris’ vision greyed out from the shock of it, and he only had half a second to realize what was about to happen.

He was going down.

The complex chain of emotions on Kirk’s face that ended in almost comical shock would have been funny, if not for the fact that it hurt like an everloving _sonuvabitch_. Chris hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, winding up with his legs tangled and cheek up close and personal with the antique hardwood floor. Something garbled came out of his mouth that had Jim reaching for his comm. “No!” That came out, although it was more of a gasp, followed by another shock of pain and more clearly, “Motherfucker!”

“No?” Jim crashed to his knees in a way that Chris was vaguely aware must have hurt, but all he could focus on was stopping the kid from opening his comm.

Mustering his focus, Chris managed to gasp, “No. He’ll fuss.” There was no need to say who.

Jim’s hand stilled, but he nonetheless argued, “That’s his natural state.”

“He needs a break, Jim, no.” A wave of pain made Chris grimace, but insist, “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re on the floor.” Disbelief made the words come out surprisingly high pitched.

Gritting his teeth, Chris asserted, “And you’re going to get me off it.” Jim was still visibly vacillating. “Go into my room,” Christ, it was hard to catch his breath enough to get the words out, “there’s a hypo kit and a heating pack on the dresser.”

It was the riding, he told himself, just the riding. Nothing more.

Jim returning took far too long, even though it was probably less than a minute. The kid quickly fished the med scanner out of the hypo kit, waving it over Chris before frowning at the results. He made an ineffectual grasp for the device and Jim readily handed it over. Deciphering the scan results just as Phil had taught him to do: overstrain, nothing more. 

Chris would have been relieved, but for the fact it felt like a Klingon was tap-dancing on his pelvis. Fumbling for the hypos, he managed to inject himself with a painkiller and muscle relaxant. JIm was hovering above, face pinched with worry. Catching sight of the heating pad in the younger man’s hands he motioned, urgently, “Lower back,” another hot stab of pain not yet dulled by the drugs and he gasped, “Bare skin. Fuck!”

Gentle but firm hands grasped his body and carefully rolled Chris up onto his side before his shirt was rucked up somewhere in the viscinity of his armpits and the pad pressed onto his back. A moment and then a rush of heat mingled with the drugs and the wave of relief was so strong he could have wept.

“Easy,” Jim’s voice seemed to come from far away and Chris thought he felt a hand ghost over the scarring on his chest before he was carefully settled on his back and his shirt tugged down to cover his belly.

Sprawled out. Broken. Vulnerable.

As the sudden relative lack of pain left his head swirling Chris decided he didn’t give a damn about keeping up appearances in front of Jim. A sound that could have been a moan or a groan escaped his lips, and he didn’t even try to stifle it. 

“Are you okay?” Jim’s voice sounded high and tight, like he was barely keeping himself from dragging out his comm no matter what Chris said.

“I’ll be okay; was just the riding. Flat is good,” he slurred, batting Jim’s helping hands away, “Just leave me be for a bit while—” _this kicks in _ was lost as the painkillers and relaxants rose up like a wave and dragged him under.

The last thing he saw was Jim’s scared blue eyes.

**********

The first thing he saw was Jim’s kind blue eyes, along with a soft sound that might have been the kid murmuring something in an undertone. 

Chris blinked, vision a little fuzzy, realizing he was still on the floor as he asked, “How long?”

“Two hours.” Jim released a heavy breath and admitted, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” his back still felt tight and uncomfortable, but the everloving pain was dulled to an ache. “Can you—” Chris flailed with a hand until Jim took it in a firm grip and helped him up and onto the sofa; it was the best he could manage, and even then lying down, but it was better than the floor. Closing his eyes for a moment, because the relocation had caused a little pinch of sharper pain, Chris waited for it to fade before opening his eyes to find Jim sitting on the floor, watching him closely. “It hasn’t seized up like that in a long time; I pushed it yesterday. You wanted to talk?”

Jim nodded, but from the way he was worrying his lower lip with his teeth there was something else on his mind. Chris just waited, not wanting to prompt until the kid figured out what he wanted to say for himself. Eventually, the younger man asserted, “I don’t forgive you.” Something hard glittered in his eyes as he clarified, “— for letting it happen.”

It was a hell of an opening line. “Jim—”

The younger man’s eyes were too-bright with emotion that just continued to boil over: “He might not have made it back!” Jim was almost panting, choked by the anger and concern that had been strangling him for weeks as he insisted, “You didn’t _know_.”

And that was true; something familiar twisted in Chris’ gut. Flat on his back on a sofa was a hell of a place to be having this conversation, but it was clear it wouldn’t wait. Trying to keep his tone even, he replied, “No, I didn’t. I’ve spent over thirty years worrying he died trying to get back, but we’ve been inextricably bound together since before you were even born. All three of us.”

Jim shook his head like he didn’t understand.

“If I hadn’t met Leo—” Chris sighed, and admitted, “I was a cocky young officer, Jim, because I figured I couldn’t die until I met him. I might have seen more of myself in you, bleeding over that bar table, than I cared to admit at the time. It probably earned me my promotion to Lieutenant Commander; definitely shaped those years, and I was damned successful for it. It took a good scare with Rigelian fever to give me some perspective again, but even then… Imagine if he’d told me,” Chris waved a hand, helplessly, “well, anything. It’s why they have the rules, Jim”

The response was emphatic: “The rules fucking _suck_.”

Chris snorted, a wry smile curling his lip, “For once, I think I agree with you.”

Jim moved to slouch against the leg of the coffee table, not quite meeting his eyes as he said, “So you and Bones…”

Chris snorted, “I don’t kiss and tell, and I hope you don’t either. I’ll just say, with authority, that you’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

For a moment unfettered hope blossomed in Jim’s eyes before it was quickly tamped down, “I don’t know that anything’s going to happen.”

“You two?” Chris’ tone was warm despite the words, “You’ve been codependent since you strapped into the back of my shuttle. I told Leo I saw you together and I just _knew_. I wish you could have seen it sooner for yourself; it was getting harder to follow the rules and not hope that he might feel something for me when he got back, given you seemed to be showing fuck-all interest. You were a jerk to him, Jim. I hope you appreciate that.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know.” Because Jim hadn’t meant to hurt Leo, that much Chris would say with confidence.

Silence stretched; long enough that Chris closed his eyes for a moment until Jim spoke again, “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” There was no real venom in the words. If anything, the younger man sounded lost.

“Jim?” Chris waited until he was graced with eye contact to assert, “It’s going to be okay, son, but you have to talk to him.”

Hands gripping his knees, Jim’s posture was defensive as he retorted, “We talked.”

Chris rolled his eyes, “Then why did you go darting down a side-corridor the day before yesterday when I left the med bay?”

Jim shrugged, no good answer coming to his lips.

The outside door off the kitchen opened with a scrape and there was a pad of socked feet before Leonard stopped a step into the front room, disbelief making his eyebrows arch and draw together. Looking from Chris stretched out on the sofa to Jim on the floor he crossed his arms and barked, “Are you two _drunk_? Again?”


	31. Kirk - Now

Bones’ first reaction to accuse them of being drunk could have been funny, if not for the reason Pike was stuck on the sofa and Jim on the floor. It only took two seconds for the doctor’s trained eye to work out what was going on, and then there was grumbling and the predictably accusatory, “You should have commed, me, dammit!” before Jim was sent for the medkit.

A quick scan seemed to make Bones breathe more easily and confirm that, yes, it really was just strain from being a bit too ambitious the day before. It also sounded like the hypo earlier had been the right thing to give, even though it had sent the older man into a doze for longer than Jim liked to remember.

He hovered at the end of the couch, only getting involved when asked to help Pike move onto his stomach to allow a better look at his lower back and bad hip. The older man’s shirt was hiked up to reveal an expanse of bare skin and Bones murmured something intended to be reassuring before reaching out. Jim knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that touch, soothing and palpating all at once; warm, calloused hands with the promise of feeling better. It offered more than strictly professional comfort, but Jim was almost surprised to find he didn’t feel jealous. Not really. Watching some of the tension bleed from Pike’s face as Bones touched and healed, Jim realized he didn’t feel anything but relieved. Maybe even grateful.

As a small smile of relief twisted the side of Pike’s mouth that they could see; Bones looked up and caught Jim watching. A flicker of nervousness crossed the other man’s face, then he must have sensed something approving from Jim because it settled more into confidence, with perhaps a fond curl to his lips.

Wanting to help, in what little way he could, Jim offered, “You guys want lunch?”

Bones’ eyebrow rose in surprise even as Pike quickly replied with a slightly muffled, “Please.”

Jim nodded, already standing to leave them to it. “You finish up in here, Bones, I’ll make something Chris can eat lying down.” The _Chris_ still felt a little too familiar, but Jim pushed himself to use it. If he fled into the kitchen before anyone else could reply, well, that was his business.

Sandwiches. Jim could manage that; even Scotty said he made a good sandwich. 

There was something meditative about their preparation: setting out the ingredients, assembly, plating. He cut Pike’s into quarters, briefly worrying the older man would think he was being pandered to before deciding utility trumped ego.

When Jim returned to the front room carrying plates he found Bones rubbing Pike’s lower back, eliciting little grunts of satisfaction as he pressed and kneaded. It would have been oddly intimate, perhaps still was, but it was also… fine. If there was one thing Jim knew it was that Bones was a healer, through and through. The old country doctor routine? That’s what he did; Jim had been on the receiving end of it often enough over the years.

Figuring a good offense never hurt, Jim balanced his plates more carefully and announced, “If back rubs are on offer I’m next in line.” Bones startled, having been absorbed in the alignment of Pikes’ multifidus. Jim just ignored it, continuing in an easy tone as he set two plates on the coffee table, “Sandwiches, one of my specialties.”

It had the desired effect; Bones snorted and gently tugged Pike’s shirt back into place before helping him roll over. There was some color back in the older man’s cheeks and the lines of pain on his face had faded as well. He accepted an offered plate, balancing it on his belly before helping himself to a bite. Jim took that as his cue to settle into the opposite sofa and start on his own lunch, pointedly ignoring as Bones seemed to vacillate for a second before settling into an armchair.

“How was the ride?”

“Fine,” a genuine smile lit up Bones’ face, “great, actually. Tango behaved himself. We did the loop trail to the foothills.” Pike smiled encouragingly and it seemed to prompt the other man to continue, “Hadn’t appreciated how much I’d missed it, to be honest.”

“You’re always welcome out here, you know.” The angle was awkward, but Pike managed to encompass Jim in his gaze as well as he asserted, “Both of you.” 

Kicking his feet out in front of him, Leonard visibly relaxed into the chair as he said, “Feels good to be outside like that; it’ll help me get through being cooped up for a while.”

“Bones,” Jim admonished, albeit good naturedly, “You can’t talk about the Enterprise like you’re on the verge of a tin can metaphor.”

Pike snorted, swallowing a bite of sandwich to assert, “You’ll just have to deal with the fact that you’re outnumbered by captains, Leo.”

“You’re an admiral, Chris.”

Shaking his head, the older man replied, “Once in the chair…”

“You’re crazy, the both of you. Just don’t expect me to ever transport anywhere again, I don’t care what Scotty says.” There was probably a real fear buried in the statement, but the tone was light. Standing, Leonard gathered up his plate and Pike’s, announcing, “I’m going to make the McCoy family barbecue sauce and comm my mother for her pecan pie recipe. Chris: relax or I’ll tie you to the couch. Jim if I see you _thinking_ of looking at work you’re in trouble. Why don’t you go for a ride and if you’re back by five you can give me a hand with the cornbread?”

Burying a retort about being amenable to being tied down himself, Jim set his own plate on the stack and nodded, figuring Bones either wanted some more time on his own to think or to talk to Pike. 

By the time he’d actually saddled up Mary-Jane and headed out on the trail the afternoon sunshine was fierce. Jim relished the burn, knowing his skin was going to go a long time with only artificial light. An hour later and there was shade in the canyon; eventually he came upon a natural spring. Dismounting to stretch his legs, it was idyllic in a rugged sort of a way. Little purple flowers were blooming in the scrubby groundcover. Stretching out, the rock was warm under his back and Jim thought that, yeah, he could do this again sometime. Mary-Jane whickered softly, settling back to drink when Jim gave a soothing word in return. 

As the shadows lengthened he dusted off his jeans and rode back, putting the mare back in her stall with some dinner and returning to the house to find Pike stretched out on a lounger on the back patio with a padd loosely in his hand, apparently asleep. The _kitchen_, though… Jim followed his nose to find a pecan pie cooling on the counter and Bones humming along to music playing over the speakers. The older man was barefoot, well worn jeans hanging loosely on his hips and soft grey t-shirt exposing his biceps as he stirred something in a large bowl.

Jim stopped just inside the door, fond smile settling on his face at the sight. “You cook.”

Looking up without stopping his stirring, Leonard replied, “Don’t often get the chance with a real kitchen.”

Something occurred to Jim, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Did you cook, you know...?”

The older man understood the direction immediately. “It was good of Chris to take me in, and I was mostly cooped up in his dorm while he was at classes or the lab all day, only seemed fair to welcome him home with dinner.” Bones’ hair was falling forwards from the heat of the oven, there was a faint dusting of flour on the front of his shirt, and his broad shoulders were still swaying ever-so-slightly to the music; he looked _relaxed_. Happy. Jim bit the inside of his lower lip. Handsome. Damn, what a sight it must have been to come home to, day after day.

“Lucky guy.”

Leonard looked up sharply from where he’s started pouring batter into a baking pan, but softened when he saw nothing but a genuine smile on the younger man’s face. Surveying the pie and detritus from whatever else he’d been making, he tentatively agreed, “Yeah,” then more firmly, “yeah I guess so.”

“Can I help?”

“Sure,” Leonard looked around for a moment before snagging a cutting board and a red cabbage, sliding both over the counter, “Start chopping this for the slaw. Not too big.”

Bending his head to the task, Jim was aware of the other man stealing glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He wondered what Bones saw, sometimes. Jim knew he was in good shape; better looking than most. The thought that someone, much less Bones of all people, might want _more_. He still couldn’t quite believe his luck. 

Flicking his own gaze sideways, Jim caught the other man looking. Bones’ cheeks pinked, but he didn’t quite look away. Instead, the older man quirked an eyebrow and gave a little smile, just enough to make Jim’s heart accelerate perceptibly. 

Something _dinged_ in the stove and the moment was broken, Leonard turned to wrestle with the oven and Jim tried to get his breathing under control. Deliberately focusing on the cabbage, he tried to not slice off the tip of a finger. Bones would be pissed at the spoiled coleslaw and having to regen the digit.

He almost did cut himself anyway when the older man softly asked, “Have you talked to Chris?”

Dropping the knife, Jim met hazel eyes and retorted, “Have you?”

Instead of responding directly, Leonard set down the oven mitts, frowning when he caught sight of the flour on his shirt. He brushed at it for a moment, then dropped the fabric as a lost cause. Walking around the island, Leonard stopped in front of Jim and asserted, “We’re idiots.”

“Does this mean you _have_ talk—”

Jim’s question was broken off by Bones’ mouth closing over his own. 

Holy shit.

How was this his life?

It was more abrupt than he ever would have expected from Bones, but Jim couldn’t help but give a little moan of appreciation. It spurred the other man on; large hands slid up into his hair and the kiss deepened until oxygen became a serious concern. Jim held out as long as he could, kissing back almost aggressively, until he had to press his palms against Leonard’s shoulders to signal a need to breathe.

Leonard pulled back just as abruptly; hazel eyes flitting all over Jim’s face as he mumbled almost frantically, “It’s okay, Jim, fuck, it’s—” As if Jim was the one needing reassurance. 

It was so _Bones_ that Jim just moved without thinking, grabbing the other man by the shoulders and pressing him against the island to kiss him again. Their teeth clashed a little, both too eager, before they settled into a rhythm that made heat curl low in Jim’s belly. Predictably, the fucking oven dinged again and Bones stiffened, pulling back to reveal dazed eyes, disheveled hair, and kiss bitten lips. It was absurd: kissing Bones like a teenager in Pike’s kitchen, but the other man looked so damned good disheveled Jim couldn’t resist stealing one more kiss before stepping back.

Bones still looked slightly stunned, but he gathered himself quickly and darted over to deal with the cornbread. Jim turned back to the cutting board, conscious that he was smiling as he chopped. He finished the cabbage and set down the knife, only to be pulled into a warm hug he hadn’t seen coming. For the first time in, well, he couldn’t remember how long, Jim just let himself _relax_.

Bones seemed to sense it, because his chest rumbled with what was probably reassuring words as he gripped Jim more tightly, swaying to what might have been to the beat of the music in the background. They stayed like that for a while, just hugging. It would have been awkward with anyone else, but between them…

Eventually, Jim felt a kiss pressed to the side of his forehead and Bones pulled back, eyes kind as he asked, “Can you get the barbecue ready? It’s real charcoal.”

Jim almost laughed; trust them to settle into domesticity like that. “Sure, yeah. We used to have one at the farm.” He grinned as Bones snagged one last kiss, as if the other man couldn’t quite believe he was free to do that now.

Slipping out onto the patio he found Pike snoring softly; even in sleep one hand was resting over the scarring on his chest is an almost defensive posture. Jim paused, barefoot, to look more closely. There was a vulnerability that Jim hadn’t really seen before; even after the Narada the older man had been stubbornly stoic. It set off a tug of emotion he’d tried not think about after Daystrom.

Jim tried to be quiet with the barbecue, but the noise eventually woke Pike. He blinked awake, looking confused for a moment before presumably remembering where he was and who was there. Stretching, he caught sight of Jim and stilled, head cocking to one side as his brow furrowed.

For a moment, Jim thought the older man was going to laugh at him, but couldn’t fathom why. It was only when Pike struggled to his feet and gave a shake of his head that he realized; Pike’s tone was warm as he shook his head and said, “Kid, those lips of yours tell a story.” He clapped a hand on Jim’s shoulder as he shuffled past, softly asserting for the younger man’s ears alone, “I’m glad.”

Jim knew he was blushing, but couldn’t bring himself to care because, _Bones_. All his. Talk about being a lucky bastard. He ducked his head to the barbecue, arranging charcoal so it would burn evenly.

“Jim.” He turned to find Pike watching him from the doorway, “I’ll have my yeoman set up a weekly comm appointment; evenings when we’re not strictly on duty. We can cancel when you’re too busy.” It was phrased as a statement, but the tone was a question.

They’d talked intermittently during the Enterprise’s previous tours; Pike usually making the time to comm him every couple of weeks. This, though, knowing he’d have a sympathetic ear every week; someone he trusted, who cared about him, and above all knew what the fuck it was like sometimes to be _captain_.

Jim swallowed, gratitude plain in his voice as he replied, “That would be great.”


	32. McCoy - Now

Dinner had been a more relaxed affair than Leonard could ever have expected. The food was good, really good, if he said so himself. Jim and Chris had settled into an easy camaraderie, the slight tension that had previously colored their interactions seemed to have melted away. Moreover, Chris’ gaze was nothing but approving when Leonard let himself lean a little closer to Jim. The sun set as they finished dessert and a chill came into the air.

Eventually, Chris pushed his chair back with a contented sigh. “I’m beat.” The older man was probably still a little sore, painkillers and muscle relaxants affecting him despite the nap. “You two have a good rest of the evening. I’ll do brunch tomorrow; ten-thirty.” He gave a smile that was tinged with memory, “Heaven knows you won’t get a chance to sleep in for months.”

Jim’s arm was snaking around the back of Leonard’s chair before Chris had fully made it inside. “Hey, Bones,” the kid pressed his nose to a spot behind Leonard’s ear that made him shiver. “It’s going to be really dark out here soon; I have an idea.”

Jim Kirk had an idea. Leonard swallowed; mentally told himself, _buckle up_.

**********

The scattering of stars around the Milky Way was so bright Leonard had to remind himself he was still on Earth. Steam was rising off the surface of the water in the hot tub and muscles he hadn’t realized were stiff from riding relaxed. There was a clink of ice in a glass as Jim took a sip of his drink, then set it on the side of the tub and shifted deeper into the water. An orbital station streaked across the sky; a reminder of just how many people were out there right now, far from Earth.

Leaning back against Jim, cradled in the hot water, Leonard asked, “You really want to go back out there?”

Jim’s arms came around his waist, pulling him further into a loose embrace. A press of lips against the side of his neck, then he could hear the smile in the younger man’s voice as Jim replied, “You and me, out there? It’s going to be so much fun.”


End file.
